


happy birthday, hope it's out of this world

by brosura



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Canon Compliant, Everyone Gets Sentimental, Fluff, Found Family Feels, Gen, Homesickness, Hunk cries but don't worry he's fine, Lance for Best Friend 2k17, Surprise Party, anyway have i told you that it's hunk's birthday today, sorry for the hallmark birthday card pun in the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosura/pseuds/brosura
Summary: Everyone’s acting very unusual around Hunk today, and he can’t think of a reason why. People keep giving him things, Pidge and Coran are strangely anxious to keep him away from part of the castle, and strangest of all, he hasn’t seen Lance even once.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe Friday the 13th is a blessed day. Anyway, here’s a big self-indulgent cheesy birthday fic that I could not [stop myself](http://brosura.tumblr.com/post/155814373911/me-i-guess-its-fine-im-taking-a-break-from) from writing. 
> 
> I wrote with a Filipino-Hawaiian!Hunk in mind, but I think the “eat noodles for a long life on your birthday” is a common thing in some parts of East/Southeast Asia based on a few conversations with my friends.
> 
> Also, an apology in advance, I have lived my entire life thinking that salonpas was the generic name for muscle pain relief patches and was unable to shake that for this fic. Keep that in mind if you’re like “what in the hoo ha are salonpas?”

Keith approaches him in the morning as he’s on his way from eating to the hangars to work on an older piece of Altean equipment that Coran was curiously ok with him cannibalizing to develop new tech with Pidge. Well, “approach” is generous. In reality, Keith just appears around a corner, an awkward tautness to his frame and face. He has a moment to wonder what Keith is doing in this wing of the castle - his room is all the way on the other side - but then it’s over as Keith gives him a little nod of acknowledgement.  

“Morning, big guy. G-going to the hangars?” Keith says, voice strained like he’s trying too hard to be casual.

“Yup! You going to the training deck?” Hunk offered, giving Keith an out in case he was just trying to be polite by making small talk.

“Yeah. But you know, if you’re working with your gear, you should take these with you,” Keith reaches into the little pouch at his hip and pulls out a stack of packets bearing the familiar salonpas logo. “Used these to keep my hands from getting too sore when I’d work on my bike, thought you could use them instead.”

Keith blushes at the last part, but Hunk doesn’t even notice because he is so _touched_.

It was a small thing, but something from a quiet, personal moment. A few days (maybe?) ago, Keith had decided to sit with him while he worked in the hangar instead of training and they’d found a common interest in engines, though Keith was an admitted self-taught amateur on most machines. He’d remembered his hands were giving him some trouble that day, not from anything major, but just the regular soreness that came from tinkering with fine machinery for a while, so he’d stop every once in a while to stretch them while he talked to Keith. He remembered looking at Keith for a moment during one of these stretch breaks to see him watching with a small frown on his face. Maybe it’s his early morning brain at work, but the fact that Keith thought about him enough after that to give him this gift, no matter how out of place it seemed in the moment, is just _touching_.

“Thank you so much, Keith!” He beams, and Keith gives him a little smile back. But grateful as he is, it seems too much, especially since the amount of packets suggests Keith gave him his entire supply. “But if these are your last ones, I really think you should keep them. It’s not like we can find salonpas just anywhere!”

“It’s really fine,” Keith reassures, turning up his hands as Hunk tries to hand him back the stack. “It’s not like I have a bike to work on here, you need it more than me.”

“Ok, if you’re sure,” Hunk trails off, looking to the stack in his hands. It’s a strange thing to focus on, but he finds his eyes drawn to the distributor’s address. _California_ , it reads, and something pulls at his gut, not quite homesickness but something close and just as sobering. He blinks and looks up, finding Keith looking at him with concern. “Actually, will you keep just one? I’ll take the rest. I know it’s silly, but just think of it as like, a souvenir.”

“Sure,” Keith says, with a knowing little nod as he takes one packet off the stack and puts it back inside the pack at his side.

“Thanks so much,” he repeats, smiling again. Keith’s returning smile is a little bigger this time.

“You’re welcome. And hap-” Keith cuts himself off, ears reddening. “Have a good day.”

And before Hunk has a chance to question Keith’s strange behavior, he’s walking - might as well be running - away, awkward and stiff.

_Weird,_  Hunk thinks, as Keith disappears around the corner.

* * *

 

Hunk’s puzzling over Keith, shifting the salonpas around in his hand as he enters the hangar, when someone calls his name. He startles, nearly dropping the stack, and can’t stop himself from jumping before he realizes that, _oh_ , it’s just Allura. Then the weight of that statement hits him and he’s worried all over again.

“P-princess,” he says, a little stiff because he’s never really sure how to address her, they so rarely interact when the other paladins and Coran aren’t around. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all!” Allura smiles reassuringly from where she’s perched on one end of the workbench, dressed up in a dirtied jumpsuit he didn’t know she had in her wardrobe, though it’d make sense since this was _her_ castle after all. A set of clean and glowing Altean tools Hunk hasn’t seen before either is spread in front of her. “I just thought I might help you today, Hunk! I’ve brought some of my old tools for you to use as well!”

“O-oh,” Hunk says, feeling a little awkward and useless now. And Allura is quick to speak before he can drown himself in his thoughts.

“Well, in truth, I was hoping we might learn from each other. I’ve learnt quite a bit from Coran, but he has, shall we say, a _certain_ way of explaining things,” Allura trailed off with a grimace, and Hunk gave her a sympathetic look.

More than once Coran had deemed it critical that he relearn engineering under Altean tutelage and found himself on the receiving end of a lecture that combined occasional engineering advice with personal anecdotes, detailed descriptions of Altean legal processes, and long intergalactic history lessons. But flighty and inconsistent as he was, Coran always spoke with a kind of enthusiasm that was hard to shut down, so Hunk could imagine Allura patiently waiting through _hours_ of it just to learn a few things about repairing the ship.

“Say no more, princess. I got you,” he says, moving to grab the piece of machinery he’d been working on to move it closer to the workbench Allura had set herself up on.

“Ah, I recognize this!” She smiles, eyes softening. “We used to use it to power the communications systems! It’s quite analogous to the core we use now, I think it’ll be a fine learning instrument for us both.”

“Then let’s get started!” he grins, suddenly eager.

Working with Allura ends up being very helpful. She’s like a living instruction manual, thoroughly and happily explaining the purpose of every little piece he used to have to guess the function of before. And every once in awhile she’d ask him a question about his thinking process, about why he thought a decision he was making would be better for the final outcome, clearly trying to pick apart the way he learned machinery. In between, they’d lapse into comfortable silence or ask simple questions of each other. It was nice, definitely more engaging than being lectured by Coran and more relaxing than working with the result-seeker that was Pidge.

Then Allura suddenly tenses in the middle of their conversation about Hunk’s family, and Hunk isn’t sure if it’s a bad memory or what, so he tries to change the subject. But Allura doesn’t relax. She takes a breath, like she’s steeling herself, and Hunk feels a gentle hand on his arm. When he looks to Allura, she’s meeting his eyes with a serious look.

“I know that you paladins must be homesick, and that the burden of this duty must be heavy. If I had the choice I would let you see your families, but it isn’t quite so simple anymore. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, princess,” he reassures, covering her hand with his own. “I get it, and I know how important Voltron is now.”

“No, I do need to apologize,” Allura insists, hand squeezing his arm. “I fear I may have pushed you all too far. Coran has told me how you struggle in your own ways, but I don’t want any of you to feel like you are suffering alone. If there is anything more I can do for you, please let me know.”

Hunk wants to say something about making sure she’s doing enough for herself, too. She has to be just as homesick and tired as the rest of them, even more so probably, without a home to return to. But he’s not sure if it's the right time for it. If it’d seem disingenuous or like he was trying to avoid the question, or if it’d rub salt in a wound that was just beginning to heal. So he just gives her a reassuring smile.

“I think you’re doing fine, princess. And thanks for taking time to help me out today!”

“It’s the least I could do,” she smiles. “Besides, I’ve found the experience educational as well. You’re quite welcome to keep the tools, if you’d like, so long as you don’t mind me joining you for another lesson one day.”

“Cool,” Hunk smiles back. “Actually, you know, about the ‘things you can do for us’ thing. If you maybe never lock us out of the castle and make it attack us again, that’d be pretty cool, too.”

Allura laughs, and he’s genuinely glad to hear it. “That can be done.”

* * *

Hunk is feeling pretty good. The unexpected gift from Keith and sudden lesson from Allura were definitely different, but not unwelcome and honestly kind of nice. And he’s willing to chalk it up to a happy coincidence that he’d warranted the attention of two people who tended to be on the busier side.

Then Shiro comes up to him as he parts with Allura after they’re done in the hangar.

It’s not that he holds it against Shiro or anything - he knows that their leader tends to have his hands full as it is and Hunk tends to be relatively low maintenance compared to his fellow paladins - but he rarely seeks out Hunk for anything one-on-one. It’s something of a badge of honor, almost, how little attention Shiro _needed_ to pay him, a carry-over feeling from being the eldest brother and cousin in his large family.

So when out of the blue, Shiro approaches him and only him with a smile, Hunk can’t help the confusion and mild suspicion it awakens.

“Hey Hunk,” Shiro greets. “Having a good day?”

“Y-yes, sir,” he says, before he can help himself. “Did you need me for something?”

“You could say that, unless you’re busy?”

“N-no, no. I’m free,” Hunk doesn’t know why he feels nervous, but he definitely is. “Um, what do you need me for? Gotta fix something?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s more about you,” Hunk immediately freezes and Shiro holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, nothing bad. You’re not in trouble.”

Hunk sighs audibly in relief and Shiro chuckles sheepishly a bit before giving Hunk a serious look. “It’s just that, Keith tells me you think you’re a bad pilot.”

Hunk tilts his head. “I mean, I am? I know I’m not a great pilot but I’m an engineer by trade, so.”

Hunk trails off nervously as Shiro’s look becomes more and more serious. Shiro shakes his head slowly and Hunk has to physically hold himself to stop his instinctual ramble and just listen to whatever Shiro is going to say. “First of all, I want you to know that you’re not a bad pilot. Your lion is heavier and slower than the others, and when you’re flying alongside guys with natural talent like Keith, it can definitely feel like you’re falling behind. But despite that, I haven’t seen anything so far that tells me you’re not a good pilot. In fact, you’ve got a lot of potential. You just need a little more experience.”

“Th-thanks, Shiro,” Hunk stammers, unable to help the blush spreading across his cheeks at such an open compliment from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“So,” Shiro grins. “I’m here to get you a little more experience. Now, suit up and let’s get to the Yellow Lion.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“We’re approaching a small asteroid belt, so I’m going to give you some tips on fine piloting in Yellow.”

“A-asteroid belt?” Hunk squeaks, torn between excitement at a personal lesson from a highly talented pilot and the horror of having to pilot through a minefield of sharp rocks, little rocks, big rocks, maybe even _mines_. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“The best way to learn is through experience,” Shiro gives him a reassuring smile. “And there’s nothing to worry about, you’ll be great and I’ll be there to help you when you aren’t feeling so great.”

Hunk is still dubious but he gives a shaky nod and follows Shiro to their prep room.

Piloting with Shiro is nerve-wracking and informative all at once. He really is a great teacher and Hunk understands why he was widely regarded as the Garrison darling. Shiro could read Hunk’s tension, gives him helpful tips and encourages him when he needs it. Hunk feels more confident with Shiro’s attention on him, more inspired to be better.

And while he’s tense throughout the affair, he doesn’t crash once as they smoothly pass through the asteroid belt.

“That was great, Hunk,” Shiro says as Hunk sets Yellow down back in her hangar. “But you definitely need to work on tensing up on the controls when you get nervous. I think more exposure would help with that, so I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” Hunk doesn’t even try to suppress the surprise in his voice.

Shiro gives him an apologetic look. “In all honesty, I’ve neglected you a bit compared to the others. I haven’t been a good leader for you, and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t think you’re any less of a pilot and a paladin than them, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be training with you more often now.”

“I don’t mind at all!” Hunk grins. “And I don’t mind about the neglect, neglect is honestly kind of a strong word, maybe just ‘less attention’ is the better way to put it. Anyway, I totally get it. I mean, I was Lance’s roommate and Pidge’s teammate so I know they can be a handful.”

“Is that so?” Shiro gives him an amused look. “In that case, I might need some tips from _you_ on handling _them_.”

“Of course!” Hunk’s grin widens. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t feed Pidge after lights out.”

Shiro blinks at him. “Is that a joke?”

“No, I’m serious. She has an irregular sleep cycle and feeding her only encourages it.”

Shiro huffs out an amused laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

After the high of being acknowledged by someone he looked up to faded, Hunk finally starts realizing how suspicious this all was. Twice could have been a coincidence, but having all three of the people who don’t usually spend time with him on the regular day to day grind give him one-on-one attention on the _same day_ was a pattern.

He didn’t have long to think about exactly what the pattern of suspicious behavior meant before Pidge came out of suspiciously thin air, acting _very_ suspicious.

“Hunk!” Pidge yells, practically running into him on his way to get an afternoon snack.

“Pidge?” Hunk says, suspicion momentarily overridden by concern over the apparent panic in Pidge’s voice.

“You can’t go- I mean! I need your help!” Pidge all but shouts, grabbing Hunk by the wrist and dragging him in the opposite direction. “I need to give you something!”

“Ok, ok,” Hunk says, but stands still, easily stopping her from moving him anywhere. “Can it wait until after I’ve eaten, though?”

“No!” Pidge sounds disproportionately offended, given how innocuous Hunk’s request was. “We have to go now!”

“Ok, I can wait,” Hunk says, simply, letting her lead him along by the hand. He notes with dismay that she’s just going the same way he came, but isn’t surprised when she leads them into the hangar. This is practically Pidge’s room, after all, a fact of which he’s constantly made aware of every morning he has to work a little quieter or move his equipment to just outside the hall because he’s found her curled up asleep there and doesn’t want to wake her from what little rest she can find.

So it also isn’t surprising that she’s already got her own hiding places there. He just looks on blandly as she removes a grate and climbs into it to pull out her old backpack. He waits patiently as she pulls something out without hesitation, not even rummaging around to find it.

She looks nervous as she holds out a hand to reveal three small candy bars.

“Um, what’s this?”

“Back on earth, when you found my picture with Matt, you said you were looking around my bag for a snack,” Pidge says, neck a little pink as she jiggles the candy bars in her hand pointedly. “So here, I found these candy bars in the pocket on the side. Turns out you didn’t look hard enough, or not really I guess, since it took me this long to find them. I probably hid them in there after Halloween so mom wouldn’t stop me from eating them and forgot about them so...”

Pidge trails off, mumbling something about Halloween candy and Hunk just blinks back.

“Well, thanks Pidge, but I feel kind of bad taking your candy,” Hunk says.

“Not _taking,_ ” Pidge says, looking incredulous as if _he’s_ the one acting strangely. She takes his hand and lays it flat, emptying the candy bars into his open palm. “I’m _giving_ them to you! As a gift!”

“I don’t know, dude, that seems like some pretty memory-intensive candy and it’s from Earth and all,” Hunk stares dubiously at his palm. “I really think you should keep it. I mean, what even is the occasion?”

“Occasion?!” Pidge tenses, ears reddening and Hunk thinks of Keith’s suspiciously similar behavior that morning. “There’s n-no occasion. It’s just. It’s just-”

Pidge cuts herself off, pinching at her nose and sucking in a breath.

“Listen, I wasn’t- I wasn’t a very good teammate to you on Earth. It wasn’t fair of me to do, since you didn’t know anything about me. I mean, I didn’t _let_ you know. I know I can’t make up for that, but I want to be a good friend _now_. So, they’re for you. I really want you to have them.”

It’s suspicious, sure. He knows she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she really meant at least that last part and he can’t help humoring her when she’s being so open like this, neck still tinged with pink like she expects him to laugh at her sentiments. He’d never be that cruel, especially not to Pidge, who he’s always considered a good friend. So he just slides all but one of the candy bars into his pocket.

“Well,” Hunk says. “If you want to be a good friend, why don’t we share this one right now? Candy always tastes best when you share it! That’s like, the whole point of Halloween.”

Pidge blinks, but gives him a wide smile that Hunk can’t help but return. “Alright, sure!”

She waits with an open palm as Hunk unwraps the candy. It’s a chocolate bar, a little smushed and coated with that white dust from sitting in the wrapper for too long and it’s a bit dry when he pops it into his mouth after giving Pidge her portion. But it’s sweet, with sugar and the nostalgia that comes with familiar flavors.

It takes them a while to finish, even though it’s such a small piece of candy, each bite a little heavy, knowing it could be the last time they ever taste a piece of home like this again.

But when he’s finished, Hunk decides Pidge is a good enough friend that exploring his suspicions wouldn’t ruin the moment forever. “So, Keith gave me a present this morning. Allura, too, and Shiro gave me a lesson on piloting this afternoon.”

“Oh, cool,” Pidge says, a little stiffly.

“Kind of weird. You giving me things, on the day _everyone’s_ giving me things.”

“That _is_ weird. Probably a coincidence.”

“You know,” Hunk says, abandoning that line of questioning for another suspicion he’d had walking over to the hangars. “You tried really hard to keep me away from the kitchen, and I haven’t seen Coran. Anything I should know about?”

“I don’t know,” Pidge gulps. “Why would I know? Do you want to know what I _do_ know? I do know that I cleaned out one of my old journals so we can leave logs to each other when one of us is in the workshop and the other isn’t. Neat, huh? I think if we made up a code-”

Pidge rambles on, and while Hunk listens intently, he can’t help the stray thought that he’d hit the nail on the head.

* * *

Pidge’s efforts to keep him in the hangar were valiant, but Hunk’s experience with both her and his various little siblings’ and cousins’ stalling techniques ultimately gives him the upper hand.

In no time he’s back on his way to the kitchen, a little nervous about what Pidge was so keen on hiding from him. He stands in front of the door for a moment, steeling himself for whatever was on the other side, but he doesn’t even get a chance to look for himself because the door slides open and Coran is throwing his arms up to block his line of sight immediately. He thinks he sees a flash of Lance’s jacket behind him, and he realizes the strangest thing of the day, which is that he hasn’t seen Lance _even once_ , but it isn’t enough for him to properly process before Coran is shoving him out the door and hastily shutting it behind him.

“Hellooooooo Hunk!” Coran yells. The mice crawl up to his shoulder to sniff at his face, clearly worried about the apparent distress he is in. “Here for a snack?! Unfortunately, we don’t have any more food and we’re going to starve!”

“Um,” Hunk blinks. “That’s bad?”

“It’s awful!” Coran insists, but he sounds too relieved for it to be true. “But I think we can save the day, you and me! Hunk and Coran! Heroes of the goo!”

He wheels Hunk around, the mice scampering down his arm to settle on Hunk’s shoulder. As he leads Hunk back towards the hangars (no surprises there), Hunk just gives the mice a questioning look. He isn’t sure if he imagined it, but they seem to shrug in response. They pass by Pidge, who shares a conspiratorial nod with Coran and runs past, towards the kitchen. Before they reach the hangars, though, Coran turns them around towards a room Hunk hasn’t been in before. Inside are rows of machines that look almost like the food goo dispenser but are in varying stages of disrepair.

Coran gives him a simple salvage request: fix up an old food goo machine, maybe fix them all, and they can increase their supply when they dock on a friendly planet. He seems to have forgotten about the “no food at all” ruse he’d used to get Hunk away from the kitchens.

“You know, Coran,” Hunk says, already working through the first one despite the fact that this was clearly busy work meant to distract him. It was mostly intact, and he really just needed to replace a few parts salvaged from the more broken machines and clean it afterwards. “If you needed me to fix something, you could have just asked me normally. I like this kind of thing.”

“That’s very good of you, number two. Or is it number three? I always forget if Lance is the shorter one.”

“We can do a height check when we’re together.”

“Very good of you, number two or three!” Coran grins. “And I’m glad you like repairs, since I’d been hoping to get you good and ready to help with castle-ship maintenance soon. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m getting older and I can’t very well keep bothering Allura to come help me when she’s so busy herself.”

“I’d be glad to help,” Hunk says, honestly. In truth, the engineering marvel that was the Castle of the Lions had always interested him, but he’d known Coran was attached to it and avoided tinkering with it too much out of a fellow engineer’s respect.

“When I think of my old grandpa, out there in the beyond,” Coran begins, voice a little more somber than it usually is. “I think he’d be happy to know the Castle of the Lions will be under the attentive watch of a lad of such good character and fine talents as yourself.”

“Th-thanks,” Hunk says, flushing a little. He wasn’t used to this many compliments in one day. Especially these deep, sentimental ones. But then he realizes the weight of Coran’s statement, the loss that both he and Allura endured. All in all, it’s honestly kind of overwhelming. “And I’m sorry, you know, about your grandpa.”

“Oh, don’t you be!” Coran says, almost too cheerfully. “He was deader than dead even ten thousand years ago!”

Hunk chokes on the dissonance between his tone and the morbidity of that statement, but Coran only guffaws and slaps him on his back a few times.

“Besides, old grandpa never liked for us to linger. Said he’d rather us have good lives of our own when he’d passed on instead of spending time crying over him! Even joked around in his will, he did!”

“That’s...good? I guess?” Hunk sputters.

“Of course it’s good! You should have seen yourself! It’s not the day to make that sad kind of face!” Coran scolds cheerfully. “Why don’t you finish up and let’s get food with the others. I’ve cooked up something that should put a smile right on your face!”

“But I thought we were out of food,” Hunk teases. “I thought we were going to starve.”

“Ah, well,” Coran fiddles with his mustache. “It seems the Heroes of the goo have taken the day!”

* * *

By the time Coran is leading him back to the dining room, he’s sure the secret is really just a meal. Maybe Coran got in cahoots with everyone to keep Hunk away so he could experiment with some old Altean recipe for dinner and he wanted Hunk to try it and appreciate Altean cuisine for once, or something.

So he isn’t expecting it at all when the doors open and he’s immediately accosted by flying paper and a chorus of shouts, saying, “Surprise!”

Naturally, he screams. “Wh-wh-wh-what is this?! An attack?! Are we being attacked?!”

“Told you the yelling was a bad idea,” he hears Pidge say, dryly, from somewhere beyond the protective shield of his elbows.

There’s a beat and then Lance is there, gently pushing his arms away from his face. “Hey, Hunk. Not being attacked. It’s cool, buddy. You can look.”

He hazards a look and immediately his eyes widen. Keith, Shiro, Allura and Pidge are all stood in front of a table filled with _familiar_ looking food, holding a sign that was clearly repurposed from some scrap of a machine reading, “Happy Birthday, Hunk!”

“What is this?” he repeats, breathless.

“Your birthday party!” Lance grins. “What? Can’t read all of a sudden?”

“But how do you even know it’s my birthday? I mean, there aren’t exactly clocks in here. I don’t even know how _long_ we’ve been here.”

Pidge raises a hand, pulling down her sleeve to show the decked out watch on her wrist. “I never recalibrated my watch and it’s got a built in calendar, so it’s been running on the same time as back home. Lance is the one who let everyone know about your birthday, though.”

Lance rubs the back of his neck when Hunk looks at him expectantly. “Well, I’d kind of been worrying about what to get you before we left, so it was already on my mind. And when it got closer to the date and you didn’t even react a little, I figured you’d forgotten. So I had these guys run interference while Coran and I set you up a big ol’ surprise birthday bash!” Lance gestured to the table grandly. “Heard Keith almost spoiled it for you, though.”

Keith’s blush reaches his neck this time. “S-sorry.”

“Shiro didn’t help much, either,” Pidge says, elbowing said not-helper in the side. “He was _supposed_ to keep you occupied until dinner just like I was _supposed_ to give you your gift after we’d said happy birthday, say something sentimental and then watch you cry tears of gratitude, but instead I just had to stand there _defending it_ to you. Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth.”  

“Sorry,” Shiro gives her a sheepish smile. “Hunk went through the asteroid belt faster than I thought we would, and I’m no good at lying. You really are a great pilot, Hunk.”

“After all you’ve done for all of us and for Voltron, Hunk, it was the least I could do to help Lance in his endeavors,” Allura smiles gently. “Besides, it’s nice to have something to celebrate.”

“And celebrate we shall!” Coran cheers as he moves around Hunk into the room. “Now come, let’s - what’s this?”

Hunk tried hard to hold it in, he really did, but taking this all in, all at once is really too much for him. He feels his cheeks getting wet and it takes a moment, but when he does realize he’s _crying_ he can’t stop himself from crying more.

“Pidge, he’s crying now,” Keith says, sounding like he’s trying to be helpful.

“I can _see_ that, Keith.”

“Hey, don’t cry yet buddy!” Lance smiles, gently leading Hunk to the table. “Hard to taste food when you’re crying. Actually, we didn’t really have salt so some of it might be bland, maybe the tears will help with the flavor.”

“Lance,” Shiro scolds, but without it’s usual vitriol.

“Now listen,” Lance babbles on, undeterred, as he guides Hunk to sit at the head of the table. “We’ve got a full line up of the best birthday foods! We’ve got your noodles, for long life, that food goo thing Coran made that you said you actually kind of liked. Even made a cake! Or, I think it’s a cake? It’s sweet! Almost. Sweet-ish?”

Keith and Pidge dutifully fix him up a plate as Lance lists the dishes off, everyone else settling somewhere around Hunk’s chair. They all look at him expectantly when he gets the plate, and he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve before digging into the noodles first. He laughs a little while he’s chewing because Lance is right, they’re a little bland and the salt from his tears improves the flavor, but it doesn’t really matter.

“Thanks, you guys,” Hunk says, and he truly means it. Because maybe this isn’t the old wooden table in the backyard of his old house, maybe this isn’t a hot bowl of his mom’s saimin, maybe the people around him aren’t his siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, relatives flesh and blood. This is still his family, and for a moment he feels like this is his home. “Really, thank you.”

* * *

The rest of the dinner is the most fun Hunk has experienced in a while. Everyone’s happy and loud as they laugh and shares stories. There’s even enough food left over to eat for the next few days. (“An important quality of party food,” Lance had explained. “Is quantity.”)

So Hunk feels a little like he’s being ungrateful when he can’t help the homesickness that hits him full force when they all part for their respective bedrooms.

Because this is usually the part when his little siblings and cousins would fight over who got to stay in the room with him and play around with all his new birthday presents until they ended up all falling asleep in a pile on the floor.

But they’re all a universe away.

“Looking a little glum there, Hunk,” Lance elbows him, appearing at his side from seemingly nowhere. He’s already dressed in his nightclothes, which has Hunk questioning just how long he’d been walking around in a funk. “Don’t you know it’s your birthday?”

“I’m fine,” he smiles weakly. “Just a little tired. I cried a lot today, dude.”

“That you did.”

“So, any reason why you’re not going to bed?”

“You’ll see,” Lance hums, sticking to Hunk’s side even as they reach the door to Hunk’s room.

When the door opens, Hunk sees that Lance has already set up a bedroll on the floor for himself. Hunk lets out a breathless laugh because of _course_ Lance thought that far ahead. He and Lance had bonded over that, after all: their mutual homesickness, how much they missed their big families and their big rituals for holidays and birthdays. How easy it was to get lonely sleeping alone when they were so used to little siblings with nightmares or restlessness. Of course Lance would remember it all. He gives Lance a weak smile, blinking a little to keep himself from crying. He’s really lucky to have someone like Lance in his life.

“What? Can’t exactly let my buddy be lonely on his birthday,” Lance says, tossing himself down on the bedroll and kicking off his slippers. “Besides, it’ll be like old times. Hunk and Lance! Roommates for life!”

They’re quiet as Hunk gets ready for bed, Lance fiddling absently with a little Altean game Allura had given him as a distraction after one long day he’d spent pestering her. For a moment, Hunk is going to pull himself into his bunk, but then in a spur of the moment decision, he walks over to Lance’s bedroll. Lance blinks up at him, but wordlessly moves over to make room for him on one edge. Hunk settles in next to him, noting the familiar warmth of another person at his side. It’s not exactly comfortable, they’re both dangling a bit over the edge of the bedroll, but it’s the most relaxed Hunk has felt in a while.

“Thanks again, Lance,” he says. “This means a lot to me. And you’re a really good friend.”

“Not a problem, buddy,” Lance grins. “Least I could do for my best dude!”

He gives Lance one last grin and then snaps the lights off. “Goodnight, Lance.”

There’s a moment of silence, where the only thing loud enough to hear over the gentle hum of the ship is their slowing breaths, then Lance suddenly shifts and taps Hunk on the arm.

“Hey, you want to play twenty questions like we used to? Because I’ve got a good one: do you think the space mice are like, totally “at the level of people” sentient? Because I get a weird vibe from them, man, like-”

Hunk lets out a huff of laughter. “ _Goodnight_ , Lance.”

“Night, dude,” Lance says, a smile in the tone of his voice even though Hunk can’t see it in the dark. “And happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! Let me know how you felt about it either on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/) or in the comments!
> 
> And for those of y’all like me who incidentally have friends whose 21st birthdays are today/are planning to #turnup for various reasons, stay safe out there, have a great night and pour a round in honor of my space son


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